


Haunting Ground: The Shards of Hope

by Zvezda_Kuerten



Category: Demento | Haunting Ground
Genre: Dementia, Eventual Romance, F/F, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zvezda_Kuerten/pseuds/Zvezda_Kuerten
Summary: The quest for survival began when Fiona woke up in the darkest hells of a place unknown - a captive for the demented, it would seem. Was there any hope of escape when nightmares walked across the hallways and chased her to the core? If so, what would it demand, if not a sacrifice of her own life?This is a lesbian retelling of the events depicted in Haunting Ground/Demento (PS2)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> Haunting Ground/Demento is a copyright of Capcom and we, Liriane and Zvezda, claim no ownership of the product and/or it’s own trademarks, nor of any of it’s related contents. We do, however, own our original contents displayed throughout this project.  
> Please note that we do not make money from this project, and never will. If someone sold it to you, please seek appropriate help (together with proof) so that the criminals may be punished.  
> Also note that this disclaimer won’t be attached to every chapter. It’s only attached here, yet it’s meanings are cemented to any and all chapters published throughout the project.

**Haunting Ground - The Shards of Hope**   
**by Liriane Kuerten and Zvezda “Zake” Kuerten**

 

**Prologue:**  
  
A lightning bolt that cut through the skies and hit both of her eyes.   
The man's robed face outside the window's glass together with it's creepy smile.  
The sound of horns.  
A hit, another and other that shook her world to it's very core.  
The gurgling screams.   
The unfathomable pain.  
The ethereal darkness.  
She remembered it all...yet couldn't seem to understand a single one of it's shards.


	2. The Warmest Welcome

**Arch 1: The Belli Castle**  
**Chapter 1: The Warmest Welcome**

**“These images hauntingly look like hell...”**  
**Chevelle - Panic Prone**

          A scream ripped off from the depths of her throat before she could find the will to wake up for real. It spread out the dryness up to her mouth and the coughs took hold of her being, forcing her to to sit up or risk suffocation.  
Her eyes watered and her vision blurred to hell and below as she blinked out her disgrace. It didn't took long for her to try and reach for them, though, and the simple action was the catalyst of the first of her startling discovers: Her body was bare.  
          She forced her eyes back open and fought against her nausea to stand up on her fragile shaky legs. She was indeed naked, but was covered with a thin blanket, at the very least. Her small relief was short-lived, though, for the realization of being trapped inside a metal cage stabbed her in the heart as soon as her vision grew used to the darkness and to the candlelights.  
          Another scream almost broke free from her throat, but she managed to overcome it's tantalizing desires. She could feel the panic start to creep through to her core, but pushed it to the back of her mind for the sake of a sanity she wasn't sure she could still claim to retain.  
          She let her eyes swim across the place, and regretted it as soon as they spotted the vast amount of ripped-off limbs across the place. They dangled from long chains, stood upside various tables and some of them were inside a cage twin to her own, too. The limbs were not human, it wasn't hard to realize, but they were the complete opposite of the ones one would see at a market, that's for sure. For once, the ones at the market would be clean and wouldn't smell like the insides of a rotten wolf.  
          Thankfully, though, her eyes also noticed the small padlock outside the bars of her cell. It was opened, and she lost not to her disgust as she threw the small door open and crawled out of the cage. It produced a loud metallic squeak, and she only hoped that whoever took her captive was deaf to it's deafening scream. The growling she heard from the dark corner behind her back said otherwise, though.  
          The muscles of her throat made themselves clear as she gulped down hard. They burned her insides with such intensity that her legs finally gave in and she crashed down to the ground, almost releasing the blanket from the vice-like grip of her hands.  
          Her eyes widened as two small, yet hard objects pressed upon her shoulders, and they refused to regain their composure even as the beast jumped away from her and ran up the set of stairs at the other end of the room. They did notice the small shiny object that fell down from the creature's fur as it ran away, though.  
          It took her a while to regain her breathing and she still approached it with caution. It was not that she thought of it as a dangerous killing device, but, the way she saw it, it might as well just be one. She let her eyes take in it's brown leather and it's silver plate as she took it in her hands. It was a small collar - probably one used to identify an animal.  
          "Hewie?" Her lips curled back and the word came forth without her permission. It was the word carved in the metal. Most likely the animal's name. It felt natural in her lips, somehow, and she quite liked the way it sounded, yet couldn't shake off the feeling of wrongness it brought upon her.  
          She let out a long, yet breathless sigh. As much as she'd like to take it with her, she had no pockets to store it in, nor could she make sure to keep both the collar and the blankets with her at all times. In the end of the day, her modesty won over her childish desires, and she dropped the object back to the ground.  
          It was with great trepidation that she approached the stone staircase - the same through which the animal climbed. She eyed it's dirty steps and waited a second to regain her composure before she allowed her legs to move up it's body. She took in the light coming from it's ending, and she knew that once she had reached it, she would never climb it down again. She wouldn't dare to experience the things she saw back there in the dark for a second time.  
  
**##**  
  
          It took a good while for her eyes to adjust to the outdoor brightness. The sun rays weren't that hot nor were they that bright, and it was clear the day would soon come to an end. There was no way she could suppress the cold shivers that ran down her spine. Her situation was already bad enough at day. No need worsening it by bringing in the night.  
          She took a moment to observe the place, but was deeply disappointed when all she saw were fences and high walls. They formed a perfect pathway to somewhere in the distance she couldn't really place. She could almost swear, though, that she could just hear the sound of running water if she listened close enough.  
          She clutched the blanket to her breasts and took steady steps along the pathway. Another pair of shivers took hold of her frame, but those were born from the cold rather than the fear, and she couldn't be sure if that was a good thing. There was a bench to her right, and for a second she contemplated how relaxing it'd be for her to sit down and enjoy it's wooden surface, yet the abrupt reminder that her captor could be just around the corner was enough to cross the idea completely off her mind.  
          The moment she left the pathway was also the moment she realized how out of her comfort zone she truly was: The big walls were the walls of a house with equally big stairs; There was a beautiful and slowly flowing fountain in the middle of a circle of neatly pruned hedges; There were countless small decorations on the walls and even the grass had been treated with the utmost care.  
          The place vomited richness, and the thought stopped her on her tracks.  
          If her captor was rich, then why did he captured her in the first place? Why would someone which such a huge amount of richness be out for her head? Had her parents pissed of someone?  
          "My parents!" Her eyes widened in realization as she whispered the most painful words since she had woken up behind the metal bars. How could she forget them? How could she forget her parents? Where were they? Were they alright? How could she make sure? What could she do? What if they weren't alright? What if they were dead? What if she was...  
          The blanket fell from her hands and she took a shaky step backwards just as her legs gave into the pressure that overwhelmed her mind. Her ass hit the ground hard and she could feel tiny rocks slice across it's skin, but the physical aspects of her paint paled in comparison to the mental turmoil that crept to the very bottom of her soul.  
          The world around her began to blur as she used her palms to cover her ears. Her ribs hurt from hyperventilation, and a bloody scream prepared to exhibit itself out her mouth, yet drowned in the sorrow of her throat, utterly unable to alert any bystander, but right on point to pierce her heart with a knife.  
          Her teeth sank down on the inside of her cheeks and a discharge of pain jolted her awake from the beginnings of a panic attack. It wasn't enough to heal her from it's symptoms, though - it never was -, and thus it was the hardest of chores to filter the air through her lugs enough to stand her own ground, but she managed it somehow.  
          Shaky hands brushed the dirt from her buttocks and took new hold of the blanket. She spread it evenly across her midsection and pressed it firmly to her breasts, all the while using the stone walls as support in case her legs decided to give in once more.  
          She tried to keep her respiration in check while she looked across the yard. There was a metallic gate to it's left, but there was no way to be sure if it was opened, and there was nothing to hold herself against to get to it, anyway. There was also a big tree to her left, much closer than the gate, but all it did was display it's beauty, which wasn't much compared to the fountain, anyway. And at her right, just around the corners of the wall she rested against, laid the biggest staircase she had seen in her entire life.  
          A heavy gulp descended her throat as she made her way up the steps. She wasn't sure it was the best idea - to climb such a huge staircase soon after escaping what could've been a major panic attack -, but it was her best shot. She could see the lights shining from the top of it, and knew that they lead to the insides of the house. Hopefully she'd find some clothes to change into and a place to rest for a while. Then she could make her way out of the place before the sun decided to settle down and she'd be forced to make her way out in the dark.  
  
**##**  
  
          She heard the pendulum ticks way before she crossed the door. It's loud reverberations swallowed the door squeals whole, and it was a wonder how she even noticed their pleas. The clock was an antiquity on itself. It's huge frame stood tall across the room and it impregnated the place with a presence far beyond the horizons of an object's daydream.  
          Her hands clutched the fabric harder against her own frame as one of her feet pushed back the door until it's closing click penetrated her ears. It didn't scream out loud, and she let escape the air she knew not to imprison in her lungs. There was no telling what could happen if anyone spotted her inside what could easily be her captor's bedroom.  
          She let her eyes roam across the room and was disturbed by the small television that sat on top of a table nearby. It was quite the old model, yes, but it was more than enough to crack a devious contrast with the far more ancient decor of the whole place. Even the stone fountain outside exhaled an air that no object younger than a few decades could hope to produce.  
          For a second she considered switching it on, if only to test it's multicolour display, but a fractured glimpse of the gargantuan painting at the far wall - the one near the clock and a twin door to the one behind her back - incarcerated her attention enough to erase the notion off her head.  
          Her legs took her up a pair of siamese stairs - the contrasts howled louder by the second, it would seem - but her eyes wandered off to the door rather than the painting, and she found herself unable to comprehend it's true self. The wooden object was a daunt to her eyes. It stood rigid on it's frame as if to mock the apprehensiveness that crawled up her back.  
          Could it lead to a closet of sorts? Maybe to a hallway or a bathroom? What was there to guarantee her that it was not her captor's hideaway? Or could it possibly be another set of stairs? Would it be a good idea to check it's fortune before exploring the bedroom, or would it culminate into a terrible mistake?  
          She held not the answers to any of her mind's questions, but, when the air she held broke free of her lungs as she closed in on the door, she knew there was no turning back. Her shaky right hand curled around the bulbous knob, and her eyes shielded themselves from it's bone-chilling strike. Yet she could not force herself to touch it - to twist it's body around and bore into it's reverse.  
          Sweat droplets snaked down her spine and the muscles of her throat devoured the dryness of a knot. Tiny hairs took unsteady stances at the back of her neck as a forbidden desire never to unsewn her eyes shut stabbed against her heart. The cold realization of her fragile modesty shook through her core, and suddenly the blanket was not enough to cover her anymore. It was like she was naked in the dark, utterly abandoned to the darkest desires of whatever creatures gnawed at it's hiding spots - almost as if there was someone beh-  
          She spiralled her body around and pressed her back against the closed door. Her mouth vomited a loud gasp as her wide eyes fixed upon the lone figure revealed by the candlelights.  
          It was the figure of a tall woman - the most beautiful she had ever seen. Her skin was as pale as the sheets that rested above the bed, and her face a mask of cold indifference rivalled only by the blank walls that caged them from every side. A light lavender bang obscured one of her eyes while twin pigtail ringlets twisted and twirled around her neck. They conjured shadows upon the dark turquoise outfit that seemed to cling perfectly to her frame, almost hiding it's bizarrely unique designs - ones she couldn't bring herself to understand.  
          "I gathered some clothes for you" One of the woman's arms crept up towards the bed as she spoke. There was a parasitic hollow impregnated deep inside her vocals that sent fearful shivers up all listeners' spines. It was almost like a snake's hiss - a mock alarm that does nothing but to terrify a person towards their unavoidable fate.  
          She dragged herself off the wall and away from the door as the woman reached her previous spot. Her eyes never let the void ones that cemented themselves at it's the knob, but she could not keep the stuttering protest from breaking free of it's feeble chains. "Wait. Don't go."  
          She gulped down a mouthful of ashes and sand when the dead orbs clashed against her own. The pendulum orchestra was all that echoed in the insides of the walls, but she'd bet her heart would've been louder had it the chance to jump out of it's own set of walls. She subdued the dryness that conquered her mouth - albeit shortly - and forced the questions out before time decided to twirl it's body once more. "Um...Excuse me, but, where are we? And how did I get here?"  
          The pendulum seemed to still itself before the words as utter secrecy tore the room apart. The winds outside dimmed down to breezes and the far-off birds suffocated on their own cries. Even the furniture refused to breathe out it's cracks, as if apprehensive of the backlash of such despicable act of blatantly disrespect.  
          Cold shivers wormed their way into her heart as the maid's eyes danced away from hers to cement themselves somewhere she could not see. "Yes, Master..." Were the raspy words she received, and she felt an inquiring desire on her tongue right before the words continued their flood. "We will keep her here for a while...I will make sure she stays comfortable..." Her voice was slow and detached, yet carried the weight of thousand needles scattered around a flame. It was like she didn't knew how to sound the words correctly, almost if her throat had not being made to pronounce them out loud, even.  
          She would forever look back at that moment in time and wonder if it was curiosity or trepidation that made her trace the path to end of the other's line of sight, but the mere sight of the painting was enough to erupt her world ablaze and melt any reasoning off her head - enough to force her to her knees as loaded breaths exploded inside her chest.  
          It was his face, wasn't it? The face of the man that reigned tyrant over her nightmares? It was the same face as the one stretched across the painting's frame, wasn't it? The face of a half bald man in his elder years whose eyes carried the weight of grace in their irises and of death in their glow.  
The answer arrived together with a major case of amnesia firmly related to her bodily senses, yet it was rather simplistic and final: Yes, it was.  
  
**##**

          The storm rang loud in the core of her ears and she felt the muscles of her face twist to angles they weren't supposed to. The colours died out of her eyes as the world blurred in and out of existence before their glare.  
          And there it was again - the lighting bolt. It tore the skies with vengeance and assaulted her vision with whiteness far creepier than the darkest hell of night. It was not what daunted her joints, though. No. It was the visual reminder of the male's face outside the window. A face who spilled venom off a smile, as if in a dare not to avert her eyes; a face that began as a nightmare and slowly crept it's way into the frail veil of her memories - a face she hoped never to see again.  
          The sounds deafened her ears and the world crumbled into the endless void of he night. A nefarious headache took hold of her mind and the fatality of her fate was set in stone before the hollow of her heart.  
  
**##**  
  
          She felt the liquid contents of her stomach explode against her throat as she woke up from the daydream, but buried them down with a startled gasp for air. She fought a feeble battle for equilibrium while the world around her spun madly on it's axis and her eyes shielded themselves from the power of their offenders, but she managed to force her legs to crawl back upright somehow.  
          It took her a long while to regain her breathing, not to mention the composure to scan the room for the maid. Her search was fruitless, though, and she felt her teeth gnaw at her lower lips. What the hell had just happened? Was that a vision? A hallucination? Did she really wanted to know for sure?  
          Her footsteps towards the neatly made bet were anything but it's opposite. She stumbled lightly on the floor and supported herself against the headboard. Steadying herself would be the bloodiest battle, it would seem, yet there was no way she could skip past it's clutches, anyway. She had to relearn to breathe back life into her own veins, after all.  
          She allowed herself a moment to examine the pile of clothes over the sheets before finally letting go of the blanket's protective embrace. The clothes were folded with utmost care, and she couldn't help but wonder when it was, exactly, that the maid had found the time to prepare such clothes. She did not remembered seeing them atop the bed when she first penetrated the room, after all.  
          Her hands took hold of the pale shirt as her legs kicked away the blankets. It had too many intricate designs for her to describe, but both the brooch attached to it's top - a blue gem that was darker by the edges - and the way it died down in a triangular pattern intrigued her the most. She didn't recognized it's fabric, yet couldn't help but lust after the way it clashed hungrily against her skin as she wore it with careful moves.  
          She gripped the lonely black choker and twirled it around a bit before freeing it's blockades and locking it back in place around her neck. If it was a message, it certainly was loud and clear, yet the sheer possibility of it grew snakes in the pits of her chest. No. It was probably just her imagination.  
It wasn't hard to wear the skirt, of course, but it's deep purple folds ended far too short for her tastes. They barely encased the entirety of her thighs, not to mention the almost translucent details at it's very bottom. If the shirt looked like a white replica of the maid's upper outfit, then the skirt looked like a replica of a brothel dancer's bottom half.  
          Her buttocks slumped onto the bed as she took hold of the long leather boots on the floor. They were a dark shade of brown, and her face exhibited her discomfort as she caged herself inside it's clutches. The boots were not physically disgusting - quite the opposite, in fact -, yet the fact they were forged with dead animal corpses was far worse than any feeble trash could ever hope to be.  
          It was only after her outfit was firmly back in place that she felt the horrible discomfort bulge out of her chest. She risked a glance around to make sure she was alone, but the only disturbance she found was the painting on the wall, and she dared not look too firmly onto it's eyes - they contrasted too perfectly with the leather of her boots.  
          And it was only after she crept away from the bed that she realized the true discomfort of walking around deprived of underwear. The clothes devoured her frame with abandon - almost too much abandon - and she couldn't help but clench her legs to try and prevent the skirt's fabric from entwining with places it wasn't meant to.  
          The attire did not ashamed her, but it was enough to make her uncomfortable. She had never used such kind of clothes before, and, while she'd normally be up for trying new things, they were simply not her kind. She wouldn't ever be caught wearing such garments ever again if she had a choice in the matter, not because she thought them offensive, but because their provocative stance was all she didn't needed to deal with, especially after being held captive by some filthy rich lunatic.  
          She stood in front of the door before she had a chance to realize it and a small puff of air crept out of her lungs as her right hand moulded itself against the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to manoeuvre in the outfit, after all. She had to battle against her own instincts to twist the object around, yet somehow emerged victorious from it's gory stand-off.  
          A quick glance across the room's entrails confirmed the finality of her actions, and her eyes closed a new time as the wood cracked between the walls. The decision was made: It was time to find a way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Please rate and review!!!  
> Thank you for your support, your time and your vews!!!


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